


UR MINE

by ArtisticRainey



Category: Thunderbirds
Genre: Big Bro to the Rescue, Bullying, Gen, Young Tracys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-30
Updated: 2016-01-30
Packaged: 2018-05-17 05:39:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5856250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArtisticRainey/pseuds/ArtisticRainey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Not all bullying is physical violence. And it's not always seen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	UR MINE

Nothing had seemed out of the ordinary. At least, not to Scott. Things were ticking over on the farm as they always did. School, soccer, baseball, swim meets, athletics training, music lessons… It was all planned out on the big kitchen calendar, written in the dry wipe that hung on a tattered string beside it. They could have got a digital planner to replace it – but the dry wipe calendar had been good enough for Mom, and that was good enough for any of them.

 

So he hadn’t seen it coming. Not at all. In fact, he only noticed it by accident. He’d left his cell on the back seat of the truck – or at least, he _hoped_ he had, since if he lost it, Dad would _kill_ him – so he’d borrowed Johnny’s. They were both waiting for Virgil’s baseball practice to end, hanging out on the bleachers. And then Johnny had gone to take a whiz, and Scott looked at his watch. Nearly time to go.

 

He patted his pockets. _Damn, no phone_. And then he’d looked at John’s discarded bag, the cell peeking out from the dark interior. He’d plucked it up and unlocked the screen.

 

And then he saw the message – or at least the first few words, spread like a tickertape across the top of the screen.

 

_DONT FUCKIN BRING UR BRO_

“What the…”

 

That moment was one of those that Scott never enjoyed. It was the kind of moment where he was walking a tightrope, trying to balance being mom and dad and brother and friend all at once. He knew he shouldn’t pry, but… His brow furrowed. _This seems serious_.

 

So he made his choice. He clicked. And his stomach rose into his mouth as he read the vitriol.

 

_FUCKIN DO WHAT I TELL U_

_U OWE ME_

_UR MINE_

_GET OVR HERE NOW_

_I NO UR SECRETS U FAGGOT_

_ILL FUCKIN KILL U IF U DONT_

_ILL GO AFTER UR BRO_

And on and on and on it went. Back weeks, back months. And the more he read, the more Scott’s temper started to flare. His face flashed hot. His hands began to shake.

 

All thoughts of calling their father were cast away as he leapt to his feet and took the rows of bleachers two at a time, leaping over the bottom three in one fell swoop.

 

By the time he reached the bottom, Virgil was walking towards him, bag slung over his shoulders and a frown entrenched in his face.

 

“Scott, what’s up?”

 

Scott didn’t slow and Virgil fell in step.

 

“I don’t know,” Scott said, handing over the phone, “but whatever it is, it’s nothing good.”

 

Where Scott’s face had gone red, Virgil’s went pale.

 

“What the hell is this?” he hissed.

 

“I don’t know,” Scott repeated.

 

“Where are we going?”

 

“The bathrooms,” Scott said. “I’ve got a hunch.”

 

And then they were four legs and four arms and two heads together, Virgil’s bag cast aside, and they were _running_.

 

When they reached the bathrooms, it was exactly as Scott thought. There was his brother, bright red hair a stark contrast to the drab cracked grey of the bathroom. And there was the culprit, the _other_ – quite nondescript, generic to the point of being invisible. Except no part of him was invisible. Not the dark eyes that kept John rooted to the spot. Not the pale fingers that extracted a wad of green from John’s wallet.

 

“That’s _it_?” the boy asked – a teen, in truth. Not a boy, and certainly not a man.

 

“I – I –”

 

Before John could stutter any further, Scott and Virgil had burst in, sneakers squeaking on the stone tiled floor. There was an overwhelming stink of stale urine and cheap urinal cakes – but it barely registered in Scott’s mind. All he could smell was the blood of the teenager he was about to _kill_.

 

“What the _fuck_?” he bellowed.

 

Both John and the teen turned, their necks snapping to the side in tandem. When he saw John’s face, Scott leapt forward – or he tried to, for Virgil’s arm was on his, keeping him back.

 

“Scott,” Virgil warned.

 

“Scott.”

 

This time the name was whispered, John barely audible above refilling cisterns and the grinding of the other teen’s teeth. He was older than John – who was thirteen – but not as old as Scott. He probably went to the same middle school.

 

To his credit, he didn’t look scared. In fact, he just looked _angry_.

 

“I fucking told you not to tell your brothers,” he snapped.

 

John flinched. And oh, did that just make Scott _angrier_.

 

“He didn’t,” Scott snarled, trying to wrench his arm free from Virgil’s vicelike grip. “I found out. And now you’re about to find out what happens to anyone who fucks with any of my little brothers.”

 

“I’m so fucking scared,” came the reply. And he was still rifling through John’s wallet. “I haven’t even done anything. Johnny’s just lending me some cash. Isn’t that right, _Johnny_?”

 

At the spiteful way the name was spat out, Scott nearly lost it there and then. Finally breaking free from Virgil’s grasp, he shot forward and in one swift movement, he had the smug _bastard_ pinned by the neck against the grimy toilet wall.

 

“Don’t even say his name again,” Scott said through his teeth, “or so help me God, I will end you right now.” That elicited a flash of terror in the teen’s eyes. _Good_ , Scott thought. _He deserves it_. “Now tell me what the _fuck_ you think you’ve been doing?”

 

Trying to swallow, the boy squirmed.

 

“ _Nothing_.”

 

The words were little more than a squeak.

 

“Let me tell you this, _son_ ,” Scott said. “If I ever catch wind of you so much as farting in the same room as my brother – any of them, in fact – I will kick your ass six ways from Sunday. Is that _understood_?”

 

He punctuated the question with a squeeze to the throat. The teen tried to nod. He tried to agree.

 

“ _Y-yes_.”

 

At that, Scott relinquished his grip and stepped back.

 

“Get out.”

 

The teenager didn’t need to be told twice. He was gone, nothing more than a silhouette flashing against the bright afternoon.

 

Then Scott turned his attention to his younger brother, safely ensconced under Virgil’s arm.

 

“Scott, I –”

 

It was as if shame was seeping from his every pore. He cast his eyes down. The toes of his scuffed chucks were pointed together. And then he _sniffed_ so deeply, Scott was in no doubt of what was about to happen.

 

“Hey, hey,” he said.

 

Virgil tightened the one armed hug, John nestling in the nook of his arm. Scott knelt down on the grimy floor and placed his hands on John’s forearms. He was seventeen but once again, more like forty-seven.

 

“You should have told me,” he said.

 

John closed his eyes, the delicate skin wrinkling in a desperate attempt to stop the tears.

 

“I couldn’t,” he said, his voice hitching. “He said that if I did, he’d start hassling Gordon. And I couldn’t let that happen.”

 

Scott’s mouth formed an ‘o’. Of course. Gordon had joined John’s school that year.

 

“He… He said if I gave him cash, he’d leave Gordon alone. So I did – I gave him all my allowance. But then it wasn’t enough and…and…”

 

His voice trailed off in a tight strangle and Scott’s heart was in his throat.

 

“You should have _told_ me,” Scott said, his voice soft in repetition. “I would have sorted it out.”

 

“It doesn’t matter now,” Virgil said, giving Scott a warning eyebrow that said, _now is not the time_. “I doubt that guy will give you any more trouble. And if he does, well. Let’s just say he won’t be able to do it a third time, eh?”

 

John managed a snot-filled giggle at that. Scott grinned, reached out to wipe a tear from his younger brother’s cheek. Then he stood.

 

“C’mon,” he said, wrinkling his nose. “Let’s get out of this place. It smells like a sewer.”

 

Wiping his nose on the back of his hand, John nodded. Virgil surreptitiously ducked into a cubicle and grabbed some toilet paper.

 

Scott had many questions. There was a lot he needed to _know_. For now, though, he was content to step out into the sunshine. John was sandwiched between his two brothers’ broad shoulders, and together, they fetched their discarded bags and started the short journey home.


End file.
